


Water for a Dead Rose

by punch_you_with_friendship



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: A bit of fluff here and there, Arguments, Broken Promises, But mostly angst, Falling In Love, Grief, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmate AU, college AU?, murder mystery? sorta?, nonlinear plot structure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punch_you_with_friendship/pseuds/punch_you_with_friendship
Summary: Roman knows it wasn't an accident. Virgil knows something isn't right. This is the story of a desperate search for a murder plot and a soulmate bond broken by tragedy.Told with Virgil's perspective in a chronological format (beginning to end) and Roman's perspective in a reverse chronological format (end to beginning)





	1. Phone Calls and New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, the name's Len! This is my first Sanders Sides fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy! I'm not sure how many chapters there will be, but it will be long lol. It's also on my tumblr—@punch-you-with-friendship  
> This chapter will be mostly exposition, and it'll be relatively fluffy, but, uh... Don't get used to that. Warnings for this chapter: brief alcohol. Always let me know if I missed any!

_December 31st, 2018. 306 days before._

New Year’s Eve was, without question, Virgil’s favorite holiday. Nothing was quite the same as the night of new beginnings, the night of leaving things behind, and the night of true love, not that the latter mattered to a guy like him. It also happened to be Virgil’s birthday, making it a doubly special night. He only ever spent it with close friends and family, those who he knew cared about him. So, naturally, Virgil was spending it alone this year.

He was currently on his laptop, typing away at the new story he was writing. He really felt like he was on a roll—the tiny community of fans he’d garnered would definitely appreciate what he’d done with the foreshadowing. The hours blended together as the words spilled out of his fingers and onto the screen. It was a pattern Virgil could get lost in for the rest of his life if left to his devices. And with the TV on (open to the Times Square Ball Drop, of course), a cheap beer in hand (which he was now legally allowed to have, hooray) a blanket wrapped around his legs (once soft, now worn) and the tool of his trade on his knees (the laptop), he thought for the moment that it wouldn’t be so bad.

He decided to take a quick break, scrolling through Tumblr. There was plenty of incorrect quotes and New Year’s themed gifs, but none of his favorite writers had posted anything. It was probably because they were enjoying the holiday with friends and family.

He sighed and checked the clock. 11:24. Thirty-six minutes until it was 2019, and thirty-six minutes until it wasn’t his birthday anymore. It would simply be a normal day for a normal 21-year-old.

All of his friends, including his twin sibling and roommate Talyn, were at Dean’s party. And they all knew Virgil would never subject himself to some fraternity thing. The frat guys hated most non-frat guys, let alone non-college guys like himself. And besides, why go to a party and embarrass yourself with your lack of social skills when you could be at home writing?

Yep. Virgil wasn’t lonely at all.

He typed up a few more sentences before closing his laptop with a sigh. Maybe he should at least call someone, just to stifle his loneliness for a little bit. But who did he know that was awkward enough to also duck out of a blowout like Dean’s party?

Wait, duh. Logan. Was that even a question?

And for once he wasn’t going to be busy studying. Virgil was fairly confident that no one studies over winter break.

Virgil went into his contacts and clicked Logan’s name. It rang twice before he picked up.

“Happy New Year’s Eve, Virgil. Can I help you?”

“Sure, Nerd. You can keep me company for a bit.”

“Okay. Is there a particular reason that you are not spending this time at Dean’s—“

“Is there a reason you’re not?”

“...Fair enough.”

The two chatted, awkwardly grasping for conversation topics before falling into a rhythm: question, answer, joke, question, answer, joke. They talked about the world, talked about Logan’s major, talked about how stupid in love their siblings were, talked about Virgil’s sketchy coworkers (what was their deal? They always acted like they were plotting something), and talked about… Patton.

“How’s the big teddy bear treating ya?” Virgil quipped, fiddling with one of his hoodie strings.

Logan chuckled. “If by ‘big teddy bear’ you mean Patton, then he’s treating me as well as ever. Things have been smooth for a while now. Can’t imagine it being any better.” Virgil was no social butterfly, but he could read people like a pro, and Logan didn’t sound like his ever-confident self in saying that. Virgil tapped his fingers on his knee.

“But...?” He prompted.

Neither one said anything for a long moment. Virgil let the silence work its magic, and after a few moments, Logan sighed. “I’m... I’m starting to think he’s better than I deserve. He’s truly wonderful, and generous, and kind, almost overwhelmingly so. I don’t know how to make it up to him.” Logan sounded pained.

Virgil frowned at the couch cushion below him. “Dude. You don’t owe him anything. From what I know about him, he’d be shocked if he heard you say that just now.”

“I know! It just—“

“Feels too good to be true, huh?”

“Precisely.”

Virgil took a deep breath. “Look.“

“Hard to do over a telephone call.”

“Really, Logan?” Virgil laughed a little, releasing some pent-up tension. “Listen, then. You’re his soulmate. It doesn’t matter who deserves what, you’re literally made for him. Do you love him?”

“Of course. I’m offended you would ask.”

“You give him your all?”

“Yes. As much as I can give.”

“And does Patton know that?”

“If he doesn’t, he’s incredibly dense.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I... When you put it that way, I suppose there isn’t—“

“Exactly.”

Logan simply breathed.

More than a year ago, Logan’s soulmate bond had started working, and the guy it had connected him to was exactly what Logan needed. He was sweet and sentimental, as opposed to Logan’s grounded and logical nature. They complimented one another, gave each other’s lives purpose. The two had rapidly fallen for one another, and had passed their one-year anniversary two months ago. They were the perfect match, as the soulmate bond promised. And Virgil was happy for them, he really was. But it made him wonder… His soulmate bond was still dormant. Virgil had never been much of an optimist, but the more time went by, the more he thought maybe the bond would stay dormant.

“Virgil? Are you still there?”

Oh, right. He was on the phone with Logan.

They continued to talk until Virgil heard shouting from the TV--it was officially midnight.

“Oh, would you look at that. Happy new year, Logan.” Virgil raised his beer and took a sip, an unspoken toast.

“And to you, Virgil.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.  
“Hey… You know something?” Virgil said.

“What is it?”

“You’re good company.”

“Oh. Thank you. It helps me to talk to you about... Things.”

Another beat of silence.

“You know you can always call me when needed, correct?” Logan’s voice sounded concerned.

“Patton’s been rubbing off on you.”

“No, I mean it. You’ve been rather… Downtrodden as of late.”

“It’s just Christmas blues. Don’t worry your hyperactive brain about it.”

“Christmas blues? I was under the impression that Christmas is a time of joy.”

“Not when you’re spending it alone. Cool it Specs, I’m fine. I’ve got my writing to keep me company.”

“I’m sure you do. But your linguistic passions do not replace real people.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Can’t-Hang-Out-I’m-Busy-Studying. And hey, I called you, didn’t I?”

“That is… True. But—”

“Relax. We’re having a great time here. Don’t ruin it with another one of your lectures.”

“Remind me why I keep you as my companion?”

“Hell if I know.”

The two laughed.

Virgil stood up, distangeled himself from the blanket, and started walking to the kitchen, intending to get a snack or something. What did he even have to eat? He really needed to go to the store or something. He poked around for a bit, finally deciding to order a pizza when he noticed a strange prickling sensation on his palm. He ignored it.

“Hey Logan, I’m probably gonna order a pizza.”

“A… Pizza? Will a pizza place even be open at—”

“Pizza places are always open.”

“But on New Year’s Eve?”

“Did I stutter, Logan? Pizza places. Are. Always. Open.”

“If you say so. I’m assuming you need to hang up so as to use your phone to order?”

“Yep. Nice chatting with ya, Nerd.”

“Any time.” Click.

Virgil started to google what pizza place was open—despite what he’d said, he wasn’t actually sure where he’d have to call—and noticed the prickling again. Was that just an after effect of typing the night away? He passed his phone to the other hand and glanced at his palm.

And promptly dropped the phone.

_Happy New Year, my soulmate!_

Written on his palm in blue pen.

Virgil stared. And stared. And blinked hard, and stared again. It was still there.  
When his brain reconnected to his body, he sprinted into the living room, lifting up the couch cushions in search of a pen. When his flailing hands finally found one, he uncapped it. The pen met the skin of his palm.

_You too. Soulmate._

Looked like Virgil wasn’t ordering pizza anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a blast to write!


	2. It Burned In One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: arguing, accusations, cursing, grief, alcohol mention, car crash mention, major character death mention… This is not a happy chapter. (Always let me know if I missed any!)

_December 30th, 2019. 58 days after._

One, two. One, two. Roman counted his steps absentmindedly. The night was still, and as he stalked through it, he tried to zero in on his thoughts. His breathing and heartbeat were steady, but his mind was straying, and he couldn’t have that. This was the culmination of everything—the late nights, the missed practices, the cut corners, the digging, even the friendships put on the line. Every sacrifice would be worth it tonight.

He kept stepping, slowly but with a purpose. The flashlight on his phone glided over the concrete in front of him as he marched.

Parking lots at night were creepy, he decided. The streetlamps flickered, the roads were quiet, and the few cars that sat in the lot were dark and empty. But Roman would endure it for a few seconds longer. After all, the restaurant was right here.

The neon sign glowed lazily. This was it. Cammie’s. The girl who orchestrated everything would be in there, Roman knew it. He’d checked every available source.

He checked the time on his phone. 12:47 am. Few people went to get a burger after midnight, but her shift wasn’t supposed to end for more than an hour. With any luck, they’d be alone in there, and he would get the answers he wanted.

His phone displayed the date. Oh. December 30th, the day before New Year’s. He hadn’t been keeping track of time. Well, the answers he expected to get would be Roman’s gift, for what they were worth. He turned his phone flashlight off.

Ding ding. The sound of the door chime was criminally merry as he entered the joint. The smell of fast food met his nose.

“What can I get you?” The girl behind the counter droned, poking at the buttons on the register. She clearly wanted to be anywhere but here.

Roman had never seen her face before, but he’d heard descriptions. He recognized her instantly.

“Hello, Gigi Frey.” Her head shot up.

“The hell… Do I know you?” Her eyes narrowed, scanning Roman’s face. He only wondered what expression was on it—he was sure that whatever it was, it could cut like a knife.

“No. But I know… Knew someone who did.”

The girl was definitely on her guard now. “Mind giving me a name?”

Roman told her his name, in a tone cold as ice. She recoiled.

“That guy?! Why are you here to talk about him?!”

“Because we both know something about him that the rest of the world has chosen to overlook.”

The girl blinked. “Okay, drop the act and tell me what you’re really here for.”

“Does the name ‘Randall Jackson’ ring a bell, perhaps?”

Recognition flashed in her eyes, for the tiniest instant. Gotcha. “I… I said drop the act!” She sounded a little like a cornered animal.

“What about Randall’s car? Red Jeep?” Roman said teasingly. He was playing with her, he knew. But after what she had done… He had every right to. And more.

The girl slammed her fist on the countertop. “Order something, tell me what the hell you’re asking, or leave!”

“Oh, never you mind. I’m not here for Randall. I’m here for him. And I know you did it.”

“Did you hear me? Screw off and leave me alone!”

“I know you made Randall kill him.”

The girl stopped. Stared. “I… What? You think I… What?”

Roman’s confidence faltered a bit, but he plowed on. He knew he was right. “Don’t play dumb. We both know you did it.”

The corners of the girl’s eyes turned up. She almost looked… Pleased? “I didn’t make anybody do anything, and I don’t know what makes you think I’d kill my coworker.”

This was expected. She was obviously bluffing. Roman would not let it phase him. “There’s no point in lying to me. I’m here so you can tell me why you did it.”

The girl scoffed. “Some detective you are. You come here to accuse me of plotting a murder, you gotta have some proof.”

Roman snarled. Proof?! He had plenty. “Why did you call him in to work on the day he died?”

She made an aggressively confused face. “What the—that’s not proof! We could’ve had any reason!”

“Mind telling me what it is?”

The girl looked like she’d been slapped. “I… I don’t have to tell you anything! And how’d you know it was me who called—”

“I asked the right people. I think you’ll find that’s all you have to do to get answers.” Roman condescended. The girl’s gaze darkened. She was obviously hiding something. He’d get her to crack.

He kept going. “Why did you all get fired after his death?”

The girl stared at him for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. Actually laughed. Roman glared harder. “You call that proof? If I really was some master criminal, I’d be _tried_. Not fired.”

Logan had said that too. Roman took a deep breath, quickly banishing the memory. “Yet you were fired anyway. Why don’t you tell me a bit more about that?”

The girl lifted her head a bit higher. “I’ll say it again. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Roman’s fists clenched, and his knuckles went white. “You wanted him gone! You wanted him gone so that you could take over the pub with your _buddies_.”

“What the hell? No!” She paused to consider something, staring at the countertop. “Listen crazy man, I’m not happy he’s dead either. We’ve had way worse coworkers than him. And he was useful!”

That got Roman’s attention. “Useful? For what, pray tell?”

The girl’s gaze held determination. “Doesn’t matter. _I don’t have to tell you anything._ ”

Roman closed the distance between them in two quick strides and leveled his face with hers. His hands gripped the countertop.

“I don’t give a _damn_ what you ‘have to do’. Because you are going to tell me right now what you did to my… To your coworker. It couldn’t matter less what you _want_.”

The girl considered Roman’s words. “Nah.”

Roman roared. “You tell me what you did to him! Tell me what master scheme you concocted and how you roped him into it and how you _killed him for it!_ Tell me this instant or I’ll make sure you join him!”

The girl rose to meet Roman. “My deal with Randall had nothing to do with the accident! My coworker didn’t even know about it—like hell does it matter if I tell you! And you’re just gonna say I’m lying!”

“Try me! Try me, you filthy stain on this earth!”

“No! I don’t have to tell—“

“IF YOU SAY THAT VILE PHRASE AGAIN—“

“Whatever, fine! IT DOESN’T MATTER ANYWAY!”

“WHAT DOESN’T MATTER, YOU—”

“WE WERE STEALING!”

The girl’s scream ripped through the place. Roman was surprised that the windows all stayed intact.

“We had a system! Me and the guys would send your friend to do some stupid task while we lifted cash or booze or whatever we wanted! Randall worked at La Bandera, and his boss was an idiot, so he took whatever he damn well pleased! We pooled our stuff! We saved it for parties on the weekends! We got fired because we got found out! That’s all it was!”

Roman’s blood ran cold. No way. He’d spent almost two months searching for this girl! He refused to believe that she wasn’t guilty of his accusations.

“Lies. Why did you let yourselves get found out? How did you get another job with that on your record? Why did you call him in to work? WHY DID RANDALL HIT HIM WITH HIS CAR?!” Roman was yelling so hard he was fairly sure he’d burst a blood vessel, but he didn’t care. He’d gladly destroy every blood vessel in his body if this girl would take back her words.

“We were used to having a coworker to use as a distraction, we got careless! And it SUCKS that we did! You think it was easy to get a job after this crap? I worked myself to the bone to get someone to hire me—I had to pull favors to even get one at this hellhole, and the other guys are all still jobless and broke. Less than broke, thanks to the fines we got hit with for theft! Jake and Cal took jail time, for god’s sake! And the reason we called your coworker in was because we were gonna talk about the deal with him. We were damn sure he caught us taking stuff, we had to come up with something to make him keep his mouth shut! We told him if he didn’t join us or keep quiet we’d get him fired or—“

“OR KILL HIM! You have a motive!”

“BUT HE WAS FINE. He wasn’t gonna stop us! And even if he wasn’t fine, why the hell would we kill a man when it would be way less work and way less… _compromising_ to just get him fired? And _even if I wanted him dead_ , why would I kill him in a way that gets Randall, the person practically running the deal, killed as well?!”

“Becau—“

“Yeah, me and the guys aren’t the greatest people. We steal. We drink hard. But that doesn’t mean we’d kill two people just because… I don’t even know why! What are you accusing me of? I have a crummy job, I’m broke, my friends are either also broke or in jail, people are dying around me, and you think I wanted this crap!”

“I—“

“Don’t ask me what Randall hit that guy for! Might’ve been wasted, might’ve been angry, might’ve had a broken brake or something. I don’t _know_!” The two stood at a standstill, faces red, hands clenched, voices raw from screaming. The girl’s nails were digging into her palms.

“I’ve never known anything less,” she choked out.

The restaurant felt dry with silence for a moment as they stood, panting, staring each other down.

And then Roman’s world fell apart.

All the fight left him. His hands unclenched. The air wheezed out of his lungs. He gazed, defeated, at the girl he’d hunted down for weeks. He could see the turmoil in her eyes.

She really was telling the truth. Roman knew it was the end of the line.

She noticed his posture change. “Get out of here. And don’t come back unless you have a DEATH WISH!” She screamed, and Roman felt her breath on his forehead. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard, fighting back tears as he turned and did just that.

Ding ding. The bell cheerfully announced his departure.

He began the trek back, not even bothering to turn his phone flashlight on. He was still panting, but not from exertion anymore. He listened to the sounds of the night, looked up at the stars, counted his steps by twos again. Nothing worked to steady his breathing.

It was done. All of his sleuthing had turned up nothing. He began to stumble.

By the time he made it to his car, it was all he could do to keep from collapsing onto the concrete. He opened the car, fiddling with the key much longer than necessary due to his shaking hands, and sat down in the driver’s seat.

He took a deep breath. Flexed his hands.

And practically slammed his forehead down on the wheel.

Sobs wracked his body. He couldn’t hold them in anymore.

Why had he gone through with this? It wouldn’t have fixed anything, it wouldn’t have changed what had happened. It would only have made him angrier. He didn’t even have proof of his claims, he never had proof—only speculation. Guesswork. Conclusions he’d jumped to… How had Logan put it? Cognitive distortions? All of that and hope—hope that there was someone to blame; that it wasn’t an accident; that there was a reason why Virgil was dead, beyond universal powers that no one could control.

Wait a minute. Logan. Oh no, Logan was going to be unbearable.

Roman silently cursed himself so passionately that he began to curse aloud. He had nothing anymore. He’d thrown everything away for this—his friends, his reputation, his job, his dreams, and for what? Some abstract concept of vengeance? And now…

Now he nothing to distract him from how completely, thoroughly alone he was.

Tears were dropping onto Roman’s jeans like rainfall.

Roman stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, finally letting himself feel. When Roman had started the search, he hadn’t just abandoned his livelihood—he’d abandoned himself. Sure, he’d made excuses, saying that he was doing it for Virgil… But he knew now that had used the search as a way to run from what had happened. He’d buried his sorrow in flimsy evidence, so deeply that he now feared the misery was cemented within him. The grief had been a whirlpool, and he had been in a lifeboat, paddling furiously away.

Roman cried out in pain. He’d gone so far down the path of denial that he didn’t know if… Wasn’t sure if…

Had Roman ever properly grieved?

Through his sobs, Roman had the crazy urge to laugh. It was truly amazing. Even after Virgil’s death… Roman was a terrible boyfriend.

He stayed there for more than an hour, letting emotion after emotion wash over him. He was done hiding from himself, and he’d stay as long as he needed in order to find the strength to leave. When he’d finally steadied his hands, when he’d cried out every drop of moisture in his body, he took a shaking breath.

Two hands gripped the wheel. Four tires began to spin.

One car rolled out of an empty parking lot, carrying an empty man inside of it. Empty.

Roman’s story was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy heck, I finally finished the chapter! I’m so sorry it took this long—I wanted to be sure it was up to par, and it was incredibly difficult to write. (I still don’t like it much but it’s been too long anyway...) If parts of the chapter made no sense, you're not confused—that's the nature of Roman's story. Explanations will come in time. Hit me up on tumblr—@punch-you-with-friendship  
> 


	3. Word for Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: cursing. That's all—enjoy the fluff, it's kinda rare for me. (Always let me know if I missed any!)

_January 1st, 2019. 305 days before._

 

Hot Topic: Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine

Princey: Glad you noticed ;)

 

Virgil rolled his eyes at his phone. He and his soulmate had run out of writing room on their arms hours ago, as well as on their legs. Once they’d resorted to writing on their feet, Virgil had suggested they exchange numbers. They’d been texting ever since.

 

Hot Topic: So what do you do when you’re not referencing Disney movies?

Princey: Ha ha. And I told you, I’m a Drama major

Hot Topic: No, not with school. With your life

Princey: Is school not a part of my life?

Hot Topic: A part maybe

Hot Topic: But it’s not everything

Hot Topic: I don’t know

Princey: No I get it

Princey: I play the guitar and the keyboard. I like singing

Hot Topic: Singing what

Princey: Everything really

Hot Topic: Everything from a musical you mean

Princey: More or less >;D

Hot Topic: The hell

Hot Topic: Is that a winking laughing angry face

Princey: Maybe >;D

Hot Topic: I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you make that face in normal life

Princey: Does that mean this conversation isn’t normal life?

Princey: You are pretty extraordinary. >;D >;D >;D

Hot Topic: Just stop

Princey: Never.

 

Virgil’s soulmate was named Roman. He went to a small college half an hour away, and he was without a doubt the most extra person Virgil had ever met. (Met?)

He refused to use emojis in favor of traditional emoticons because “emojis are for the weak”. One second he texted like a normal person, the next he slipped into formalities and talked like he was writing a royal address, hence the new nickname Virgil had given him. And on the subject of nicknames, Roman was enamored with them. So far he’d referred to Virgil as his Chemically Imbalanced Romance, his Sweetie Todd and his Evanangel, though he seemed impartial to the name Hot Topic.

 

Princey: But jokes aside, if you want me to stop I will.

 

And then there was this: his sudden bouts of seriousness. He could be in the middle of a flirty remark, or be spouting what must be the romantic work of Shakespeare himself, and suddenly become apologetic for no reason. Virgil wasn’t sure why… Was he just overly sympathetic? Or was he more insecure than he let on?

 

Hot Topic: By all means, don’t let me stop you

Princey: If you say so, Draculove At First Sight.

 

It was both sweet and a little sad to see.

But with all of their weird flirting and moments of sincerity that left as soon as they came, they were dancing around the real subject. After a full night of texting, they’d never really talked—they’d only exchanged banter and shallow questions. It was probably time to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

  
  
Hot Topic: Hey Princey

Princey: Yes?

Hot Topic: What are you hoping to get out of this

Princey: Out of what?

Hot Topic: This whole soulmate thing

Princey: I’m not sure

Hot Topic: Yeah you are

Hot Topic: Shoot, I can take it

  
  
The thought bubble that meant Roman was typing blinked in and out for a few moments. Was he nervous, or trying to figure out how let Virgil down gently? It was probably the latter. Virgil braced himself for the inevitable.

 

Princey: I’m hoping we can be boyfriends?

Princey: Eventually?

Princey: I want to take you out on a date at the very least

 

Virgil blinked. Roman was interested? He hadn’t been expecting that. But it wasn’t unwanted, god, it wasn’t.

 

Princey: What about you? What’s your sexuality?

Hot Topic: My sexuality? If you’re worried I’m straight stop worrying cuz I’m the gayest person I know

Princey: That’s a relief, Harley Queer.

Hot Topic: Omfg

Princey: Though I’m going to have to contest your last statement, I’ve just replaced you as the gayest person you know

Hot Topic: Dream on, Pretty boy

Princey: I will ;P

Hot Topic: Yeah I bet

Hot Topic: And of course everything’s gotta come with a wink

Princey: Yes, of course. How could I live with myself if I didn’t include a wink with every text I send? ;)

Hot Topic: I smell bullshit

Hot Topic: Do you smell bullshit

Princey: All I smell is the sweet scent of victory

Princey: But really what do you want to do from here?

Princey: Relationship-wise

  
  
Virgil paused, thumbs hovering over the screen. He could opt for a simple reply, but what good would that do? This relationship, whatever it was, would require honesty. Or as much honesty as Virgil could muster anyway.

  
  
Hot Topic: Idk

Hot Topic: But I do know I don’t want to throw this thing away

Hot Topic: I like you

Hot Topic: And I want to get to know you better

Princey: Same to you, Hot Topic

Princey: You’re quite the fascinating individual.

 

Virgil raised one hoodie-covered hand to his face. He could feel the heat through the fabric. Oh, he was done for. There was a thrill taking over Virgil, making him feel like he was flying every time he got a message from Roman. It was almost unfair—it had to be illegal to make Virgil feel this way! And yet, if Virgil could have stopped the world, stopped time itself in order to make this conversation last forever, he would have.

He knew exactly what he wanted to ask Roman next. But Virgil was just… Virgil. Anxious Virgil, lazy Virgil, plain old angry old Virgil. How could he ask what he wanted to ask without sounding like a complete—

 

Hot Topic: Are you free tomorrow?

 

The words were on their way to Roman before Virgil could think again.

There was a pause.

No no no, what had Virgil done? He was an utter failure, a waste of space! No one was going to want to date him—or at least, no one who knew what they were getting into. This was all happening too fast! Virgil knew it, he knew it, this would be the moment when this weird… Something they had fell apart, and Roman told Virgil that he never wanted to speak to him again, and they both went on without ever acknowledging they had a soulmate—

 

Princey: I thought you’d never ask!

 

Virgil’s hands relaxed around his phone. Of course, Roman wasn’t the type to give up on a soulmate so quickly. He took deep breaths and steadied himself. His hands were shaking. When had they started shaking?

 

Princey: Luckily, I am free

Princey: If I wasn’t I would have cancelled it all though, so I don’t suppose it matters.

Virgil squirmed at the butterflies in his stomach. He was grinning stupidly. This man… He had no idea the effect his words were having on Virgil’s heart.

Hot Topic: What do you say we meet somewhere

Princey: Oh, I know the perfect place!

Princey: There’s a park near downtown, we could get lunch and walk around. Sometimes they have a live band playing.

Princey: What do you say?

  
  
Virgil wasn’t much of an outside person, but it sounded perfect anyway. As long as he could spend time with this wonderful new person.

He started to type out a yes, but hesitated. A smile spread across his face.

The pen was still sitting on the coffee table. He picked it up, searching his body for an open area. There was a blank spot on his right palm.

 _Sounds like a plan._ The words didn’t shimmer or fade into his skin, but somehow they still felt mystical.

A few moments later, the now familiar tingling sensation creeped across his palm. _No fair, you’re ambidextrous?_ appeared slowly on his skin in messy, barely legible writing.

Virgil laughed out loud. Roman must be right-handed. _Yeah, better keep up_ Virgil wrote in response, grinning. Something about this boy turned his expression into a permanent smile. 

He noticed that the room was growing brighter. The sun was rising. He stood for the first time in hours, stretching his legs briefly, and sauntered over to the window. All-nighters were commonplace for him, but he was always stowed away in his room when the sun showed up. It was beautiful.

Virgil looked down at his palm again and chuckled at what he saw:  _Don’t worry Green Gay, I have good rhythm._

Virgil wrote a reply on his right ankle. _You weren’t even trying with that one._

 _I beg your pardon, that one was a masterpiece!_ Virgil could almost hear Roman’s offended noises from miles away.

_Whatever you say, Princey._

_Truly, no one appreciates verbal mastery anymore._ Virgil rolled his eyes. On his skin, next to the words, an exaggerated frowny face began to appear, tears running down its cheeks. Virgil smirked, drawing a little crown on its head. Roman stopped drawing for a moment, probably affronted that his art had been tampered with. Then a tiny storm cloud appeared above the drawing, raining all over the frowny face. The word ‘Virgil’ appeared on the cloud.

Virgil laughed out loud, and gripped his pen once more. _What, so I rain on your parade?_

Roman drew a speech bubble from the frowny face’s mouth. _I hope you never stop raining on it, my stormcloud._

Virgil dropped the pen, he was so surprised. Roman wasn’t joking—he really wanted him around. This might actually go somewhere. Virgil gulped. Commitment wasn’t something Virgil had ever thought he would experience, and now that it was a possibility… Virgil was terrified. But through the fear, he felt… It felt… Exciting. He had never had this before.

The dawn light played on the fresh ink, making it shine a little. He’d almost think the words had been written in gold.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d asked a guy out. The guy had said yes. The guy was his soulmate. He was writing messages to him while watching the sun rise. And in another day, he’d get to see this guy face-to-face.

All these years, and it was only one more sunrise until he would meet his soulmate. He bent down to pick up the pen.

_Tomorrow, Princey._

_Tomorrow can’t come soon enough._

He’d find a way to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My style doesn't match with fluff quite as well as angst, but I'm happy with how this turned out. Hit me up on tumblr—@punch-you-with-friendship


	4. Toxicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: TOXIC anger, apathy, bottling emotions, graphic threats. Stay safe, this one is pretty triggering.

_December 30th, 2019. 58 days after._ **  
**

 

Roman was sitting in his favorite armchair, gripping his phone like a strangler would their enemy’s neck. He was developing a theory, a theory to the tune of his ringtone going off again and again. Prior to Virgil’s death, theories hadn’t really been Roman’s style. But weeks upon weeks of searching for clues had changed Roman, and here he was, a true wise guy. Theory: Logan didn’t miss Virgil at all.

It might seem unfair to the untrained ear, but Roman had piles of proof.

Evidence Number One: Logan now hated Roman, Virgil’s soulmate.

 

Today, 8:52 PM Missed call: Microsoft Nerd

Microsoft Nerd: Roman, I’m sorry.

Microsoft Nerd: I should never have gotten so agitated, it was a grave mistake on my part. You are going through something entirely different than I, and none of what I asserted was fair to you.

Microsoft Nerd: I am to blame, not you, and I’m deeply sorry. You must believe me.

 

Roman squeezed the phone so hard he thought it might break. The last time they had seen one another, Logan had picked apart and dismissed Roman’s work, yelled at him endlessly, tried to _break_ him, and now, a day later, he was crawling back. What did he even want Roman’s approval for? After this fight and every fight over the years, he clearly thought that Roman was a liability in the perfectly ordered chess game that was his life. No amount of apologizing was going to change that, and if Logan was going to abandon Roman after the latter’s soulmate had died, he should at least let Roman hate him for it in peace.

Evidence Number Two: He especially hated Roman’s work.

 

Microsoft Nerd: Please respond, I know you are receiving these messages.

Microsoft Nerd: At least, I’m fairly sure you are. You might be in an area with no service. But considering that you are planning to confront Virgil’s assumed killer tonight, I would infer that you’re at home.

Microsoft Nerd: Wait, not “assumed”. “Supposed”?

Microsoft Nerd: “Alleged”?

Microsoft Nerd: Nevermind, I am exacerbating the problem.

Microsoft Nerd: Please reply.

 

Roman clenched his jaw when he read stared at the word “assumed”. Even during a desperate attempt to get Roman back on his team, even while apologizing to Roman, he called Roman’s claims _assumptions_. Would there ever be a time when Logan looked past his “I’m smarter than you” mentality? There was so much evidence, so many little things that pointed to Virgil’s death being purposeful. How could Logan look past it all? How could he call it all a farce? With a mind like Logan’s, it wasn’t just stupidity to ignore the facts. It was contempt. Disdain. If the prick truly missed Virgil, he would want vengeance.

Evidence Number Three: He’d dragged Patton into it.

 

Today, 8:59 PM Missed call (3): Padre

Padre: Roman Roman Roman

Padre: Please talk to Logan!!!! He feels terrible and he was crying earlier, you know him, he’s not a crier! Please forgive him

Padre: I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything when he was yelling at you! I wanted to but I didn’t know how

Padre: I know you care a lot about this whole search thing, but Logan’s your friend and I think you two should talk this out

 

Logan was only apologizing in order to get Roman off his back; that was painfully obvious. But Patton made no sense. He was Logan’s soulmate, which gave him a certain bias, but he was also good at reading people—he should have picked up on Logan’s hatred of Roman. Hell, Logan had physically dragged Patton out of Roman’s apartment last night! Why would Patton even try to claim that Logan regretted it?

Wait a minute… What if Logan was only trying to apologize because Patton had forced him to? That must be it. Logan was too far gone to be Roman’s friend anymore—if he ever was—and he was smart. He should know that there was no point in apologizing. But Patton had always been a diplomat.

All in all, more evidence that Logan hated Roman. And a hatred of Roman was a hatred of the search, which was a hatred of Virgil’s memory.

Roman read the texts again and snorted. Logan crying? Please. If Patton thought Roman was going to believe that, he must truly think Roman was an idiot. Because if that was true, why was it that:

Evidence Number Four: Logan had never seemed too bothered by Virgil’s death.

 

Padre: I’m really worried about you kiddo

Padre: I can’t remember the last time I saw you smile or laugh or cry and that’s not healthy

Padre: It’s okay to feel things

Padre: You can talk about your emotions with us

Padre: Or at least with me if you still don’t want to talk to Logan

Padre: Please talk to us?

 

Roman turned his phone off and flipped it onto the carpet, where it landed with a soft thud. Why did Patton keep blindly expecting people to have good hearts? Logan didn’t have one—he barely even had a heart! When Virgil died, he hadn’t tried to comfort Roman, he hadn’t missed any work, he hadn’t even cried at the funeral! No emotion, only business. Even months after Virgil’s death, the only times they’d really talked about Virgil had been during arguments about the search. Talking to that goddamn robot about his problems would be about as helpful as slamming his head into a wall. Robots don’t do therapy. Robots don’t _cry_.

Besides, Roman didn’t have any problems. Logan was the one who had problems.

Roman leaned down to pick up his phone again. It was _still_ buzzing. Why didn’t those bastards give up? There had to be a reason, and it came to him when he glanced at the new messages.

Evidence Number Five: Logan only cared about himself.

 

Microsoft Nerd: It does not seem like you are going to reply.

Microsoft Nerd: I understand that you do not desire to speak to me. In fact, I’ll understand if you never try to communicate with me again.

Microsoft Nerd: But at the very least, please do not avoid speaking to Patton.

Microsoft Nerd: He is innocent, and was only involved in our problems due to my negligence. He does not deserve to be cast away so quickly.

 

It was good that Logan felt that way, because if he ever saw Roman again, it would be a very, very bad day for him. But all this righteous talk about Patton’s innocence was obviously a facade. It was clear to anyone with eyes that Logan didn’t care about Roman, but he’d done a good job of pretending to care about Patton. Until now.

Patton hadn’t said much during the fight other than “um”s and “but”s, but Roman could be reasonably sure that he’d been trying to stop Logan on some level. For the past few weeks, Patton had been relatively supportive of Roman’s endeavors, even helping to look for clues on some occasions. Earlier he’d explicitly told Roman that he’d wanted to say something during the fight. But Logan? Logan had tried to counteract that. Cutting off Patton, preventing him from seeing Roman, dragging him around. He was trying to stifle Patton’s free will! Roman had asked for help, Patton had wanted to provide it, and Logan had prevented him from doing so. Logan didn’t care about Roman _or_ Patton! So if Logan didn’t care about the guy with the dead soulmate or even his own soulmate, what possible reason could there be for Logan to care about Virgil? About _anyone?_

Now there was a statement. Theory: Logan didn’t care about anyone at all.

Roman rose from his seat and began to pace, phone in hand. It made too much sense. Logan was a traitor to his friends, a destroyer of relationships, the king of apathy. He ruinated upon everyone and everything unfortunate enough to cross his path. Logan was Roman’s enemy! Logan was Virgil’s enemy. _Logan was Roman’s enemy_ and he had been all along!

 

Padre: Talk to us please!!! We still care about you

Microsoft Nerd: Patton is becoming frantic. I’m concerned for him.

Padre: We’ll listen to anything you have to say

Microsoft Nerd: If you have decided to retire our friendship, at least announce that to us.

Padre: Please please please please Roman we love you

Microsoft Nerd: Actually, scratch that. Announce it to Patton. He at least deserves a response.

 

Roman breathed heavily, his face heating up. They deserved nothing from him! Nothing! They destroyed his life after it had already been destroyed! Roman was above them, and nothing they could possibly do or say would change that fact! Roman was better than them in every way, whether it was a way that counted or not! ROMAN—

 

Padre: Please?

 

Roman snapped.

 

Roman: Tell Logan that if he were hanging off the edge of a cliff, not only would I not pull him up, I would pluck his fingers off the ledge and watch him fall to the ground.

 

Dramatic, but that was simply Roman’s style. Had he just compared himself to Scar in a way? Oh well. At least Scar was a good tactician.

Roman’s phone lay still at last.

He took a deep breath. Now that that was taken care of, it was time to start getting ready for a confrontation. The girl’s shift ended at 2:00 AM, and it was only 9:07 PM right now, but surely it couldn’t hurt to—

 

Microsoft Nerd: ROMAN.

 

Roman raised an eyebrow. All caps. That was out of character.

 

Microsoft Nerd: How dare you traumatize Patton like that! I don’t care about your intimidation tactic, but I told you: Patton is innocent!

Microsoft Nerd: He’s hyperventilating now! What license do you have to upset him?!

 

Roman sat back down heavily. Patton hyperventilating… Roman closed his eyes against that unpleasant visual.

Wait, was that guilt Roman had just felt? Pathetic! Roman had no reason to be guilty! Logan absolutely deserved to see his boyfriend like that. And Patton deserved… Deserved it too…

Roman fisted the fabric of his shirt. There it was again. Weak, Roman! Stop feeling bad! There was no time for emotion with all the work to be done. Besides, he had much more important things to worry about. Tonight was the night when Roman would meet the one who had planned the murder of Virgil, and it would not be ruined by some petty vulnerability.

 

Microsoft Nerd: Let me confess something I ought to have disclosed last night: I no longer care about the search as a concept.

Microsoft Nerd: I care only about how it has altered your personality.

Microsoft Nerd: I can scarcely recognize the person you’ve become. What happened to your silly, heroic, fanciful nature? Where has it gone?

 

Roman shuddered. How dare Logan say that? Roman… Roman was _better_ now! Before the search he’d been an aimless fool; now he had a goal! Something to put his energy into! A purpose! And that purpose was to give the people who had murdered his soulmate what they deserved— _pain_. Logan should _wish_ that he was more like Roman!

 

Microsoft Nerd: The world is not indebted to you simply because your boyfriend passed away.

Microsoft Nerd: But I would prefer that you determine that on your own terms.

 

Roman’s hands shook. Logan… He said… He dared-!

 

Microsoft Nerd: Please try to release this toxicity. You are clinging to something you cannot change, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can start to repair what has been damaged.

 

Roman could stand no more.

Click. He had never used the “block this caller” option in his contacts before, but doing so was immensely satisfying. The phone stilled. With any luck, Logan would never bother Roman again.

He took a deep breath.

Roman didn’t have time to think about Logan—the night hadn’t even started. He still had a forty minute drive ahead of him, and a murder conspirator to chat with.

Roman checked the time: 9:12 PM. He hadn’t even eaten dinner. Well, if he was going to do so before he left, he ought to start making it now. He rose slowly, brushed himself off, and walked into the kitchen, his phone lying silently on the cushion where he had sat.

He wished he didn’t noticed how deafening the silence was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I wouldn’t take as long to write things. And what did I do? I took even LONGER. I’m so sorry! This chapter was incredibly hard to write due to the raw anger behind the words and the fact that Roman is basically at a breaking point. I had to walk away from it a few times. But it’s finally done! Hit me up on tumblr—@punch-you-with-friendship


	5. Rude Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: cursing, anxiety, detailed panic attack, food mention, fire mention?

_January 3rd, 2019. 303 days before._

 

_Carpet. He is sitting on the carpet. That is the first thing he knows, and the only thing that matters. It feels so soft under his palm, so comforting._

_He looks around the room. It’s his room. The one he shares with his sibling, the one above the office where Daddy works. It’s a little emptier than usual._

_“Hey Virgie!” Giggles, echoing through the room. Did the room always echo?_

_He turns his head. The source is to his right._

_“Virgie, look at this!” He can’t see what Talyn is doing._

_He cringes a little. Why are they being so loud? Don’t they know that loud noises are bad? Loud voices make naughty kids, that’s what Mommy says._

_“Virgie, why aren’t you watching me?” A heavy thud. No, no! Talyn needs to be quieter, they’ll both get in trouble! He tries to stand, to run to his sibling, but he can’t move._

_“Virgie!” Talyn stamps their foot in indignation. The sound is like a gunshot. His voice doesn’t work either._

_The lights are dimming. Why are they dimming? This is bad, really bad, Mommy’s gonna get them, they’re about to be caught—_

_“What is going on in here?” Too late. His body seizes up._

_“I thought I told you, not a peep while your father is working!” Mommy’s eyes are wild with anger. She’s looked at him like that before._

_“It was Virgie, Virgie, he was being noisy!” Talyn is pointing at him, the same look in their eyes. The expression looks foreign on them._

_“You little rat,” Mommy growls. She’s growing taller—one meter, two meters, three meters taller, never seeming to reach the ceiling. He wants to cower, to scream, but he can’t do it he can’t do anything he can’t MOVE—_

_The she grins. Holds up an apartment key. His key._

_“Better start packing,” she says._

Virgil’s eyes flew open with a start.

He didn’t even have time to think about the ramifications of his dream, because his heart was pounding and his hands were shaking and he was already halfway to a panic attack. Quickly he started his breathing exercise—in for 4, hold for 7, out for 8, his hands unconsciously pressing the comforter to his chest. His thoughts were in chaos.

When he finally got a hold of himself, he sighed and checked the time: 5:33 AM. He pressed his fists to his face, and the heels of his hands touched his cheeks. They were tearstained, just like last time, and the time before, and the time before that.

He cursed aloud. He’d thought he was done having these nightmares—it had been months since his last one! After almost three years of living on his own, working, and paying rent, he had enough to worry about. He should be over this by now.

Why had he even had the stupid nightmares in the first place? His mom was a great mom! She’d never done anything wrong.

 _Better start packing._ He shuddered. Absolutely nothing wrong.

Virgil had been getting nightmares like these ever since he’d been… Since he’d moved out, and he was never able to figure out if they were memories or not. Sure, they always ended in Mom holding out his apartment key and saying those three words—which was definitely a memory—but the scene that came before was often an invention.

He thought back to his childhood. Had Talyn ever ganged up on him like that? They would never do that now—they’d agreed years ago that twins stick together. But before Talyn came out to Mom as nonbinary, things had been different.

What did it matter? It was in the past.

Virgil rolled onto his side. He didn’t usually get up for work until 9:30, so he still had plenty of time to sleep. He closed his eyes, feeling the darkness settle in around him.

He tried to keep his mind empty, but it of course it didn’t work. Thoughts drifted through his head like leaves in the wind: snippets from his dream, worries for work tomorrow, questions still unanswered.

Why did the nightmares come back now, of all times? Today—or yesterday, he supposed—had been one of the best days of his life. So why now? Did his brain just decide it had been too long and bring the nightmares back to haunt him? Was he just feeling overly anxious?

…Because of Roman?

Virgil huffed, eyes still closed. He was thinking too hard.

His thoughts wandered to the events of the day, and Virgil relaxed a bit more. Roman was full of surprises. He’d flirted with Virgil endlessly, of course. But he was also strangely… Wise. At the most random times. And he was sweet, and he was talented, and he gave Virgil his full attention as if no one else would ever matter as much…

Hadn’t he told Virgil something about music? Music seemed to be important to Roman, because he’d said something interesting about it. They were at the park, and the band was leaving, and he’d told Virgil… He was telling Virgil…

He is telling Virgil.

_“Shoot, they’re leaving.” Roman says, face falling. The guitarist takes down one of the mic stands._

_“Really? Darn, they were awesome. If only we’d gotten here sooner… Roman.”_

_Roman gasps. He’s not really offended. “I was enjoying my meal, Virgil!”_

_“Whatever you say.” Virgil says, examining his nails. They’re painted purple._

_”How rude. I should call my palace guards on you!”_

_“Oh my god,” Virgil says, rolling his eyes._

_“You invented the Princey nickname, you brought the kingdom jokes upon yourself!”_

_“Sure I did.”_

_“See? Glad we’re in agreement, Hot Topic.” Roman says, ignoring the sarcasm._

_Virgil chuckles, Roman chuckles back. They’re caught up in one another._

_When the laughter dies down, Roman’s looking Virgil in the eye. It’s quiet for a second before he speaks. “Earnestly, though, it doesn’t really matter how much we heard. A few minutes of music can change a life just as much as an hour of it.”_

_Roman smiles in spite of himself. Virgil gazes at him in awe._

_Roman is an adventure, a rollercoaster. Virgil doesn’t believe in love without troubles, or love at first sight, but this… This might be… What is this?_

Virgil jolted awake again.

He swallowed, hard. What did _that_ dream mean? It was a memory from yesterday, but he didn’t remember thinking… He didn’t remember that _question_. Surely it couldn’t mean that Virgil was starting to… No.

The dream was just his subconscious getting excited about what had happened yesterday, right? Just some leftover happiness. It didn’t mean much.

He closed his eyes defiantly, determined to fall back asleep and not overthink anything. What was there to overthink?

Blankets… Cozy… Warm… Warm arms… Brown eyes… Roman… What is this… What is this?

Virgil sat up. Nope, he was not going to acknowledge the underlying question. And his brain wouldn’t shut up about it, so he couldn’t just lie there and let himself think.

Looked like he was giving up on sleep.

He reached his hand over to his bedside table and felt around for his phone, unlocking it. Whenever he gave up on trying to sleep, he would spend his time on Tumblr, because everyone else there was just as sleep-deprived as him.

He scrolled through memes for an hour or so. When the time on his phone read 6:35, his ringtone went off, and he did a double take when he saw who the texts he’d just gotten were from.

 

Princey: Yesterday was a dream

Princey: I must see you again soon.

 

Of course Roman would send those words early in the morning. He was probably hoping that Virgil would wake up to them.

 

Hot Topic: Yeah same here

Hot Topic: I’ve got work most days though

Princey: I know. Groan.

Princey: I still can’t believe you got out of work yesterday though!

Hot Topic: Lmao right

Hot Topic: My boss is stupid nice

Princey: I wonder how many times we’re going to take advantage of that ;)

Hot Topic: Probably a lot

Princey: Is that a complaint I see? You wound me.

Hot Topic: Yeah I hate you

Hot Topic: That’s why I weaseled my way out of work just to walk around and do sappy shit with you all day yesterday

Princey: What a charming thing to say, Linkin Snark.

Hot Topic: If you wanted a love letter you’re texting the wrong guy

Princey: Oh, but I’m clearly not.

Hot Topic: And why’s that

 

Virgil stared at his phone. There was no further response. Why wasn’t Roman texting back? Had Virgil said something wrong? But then he felt a tingling on his wrist, and he rolled his eyes.

 _Did you forget this little detail?_ The message read.

Virgil grabbed a pen from his bedside table and scribbled a response. _As if I could ever_

Roman’s next message was immediate: _Aww, you think I’m unforgettable! :D_

 _Do I now. What’s your name again?_ He was glad Roman couldn’t see him right now—he didn’t need to know how little Virgil’s red face matched the sassy reply.

 _Very funny._ Virgil sniggered at the words.

_But since it’s slipped your mind, you may call me Love._

That wiped the smirk off of Virgil’s face.

Love?

What was he talking about? ~~Roman felt it too?~~

That question… No.

What is this What is this _What is this WHAT IS THIS_

Crap.

He was having an anxiety attack.

Virgil’s hands were in his hair, nails digging into his head. His chest was heaving. Thoughts were whirling through his head at a mile a minute.

His… Heart. Love. No. Virgil… Unlovable. Can’t… No.

Scared. Too much… Too fast. Pounding. Head.

Too dark. Alone. Should… Stay. Not… Worthy. No.

Will… Hate. No one. Virgil. Loves. Let him down… Will fail.

The bed was wobbling under his shaking weight. His scalp might have been bleeding, but he wasn’t sure. There was so much silence—it was everywhere, suffocating him…

Vaguely, he became aware of the familiar tingling sensation, spreading across his whole arm. He still couldn’t see well.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. The word was a chant in his head.

He looked at his arm. It was covered in words, but they looked like a blur. Roman must have been wondering why he hadn’t gotten a response. Virgil had to reply, now.

Breath. Breathe, Virgil, you complete waste of space, BREATHE!

He picked up the pen. He could barely hold it with how much his hand was trembling. When he pressed it to his skin, all he managed to mark down was a meaningless scribble.

Worthless. Useless. Roman hates you.

Virgil’s head fell into his hands. He stayed in that position for some time—he had no clue how long—simply taking in air. Breathing. His thoughts ran wild, and he made very little effort to tame them, until they started to slow. He began to relax. Time dragged on, and finally his heart slowed down enough for him to be able to raise his head once more.

He opened his eyes. His vision had cleared.

He read the messages on his arms. They were all colorful apologies.

_Virgil, I’m sorry. Was that too forward?_

_We don’t have to call it love yet. You set the pace._

_Are you okay? Did I scare you? I’m an idiot._

_I got caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t be making excuses, god, I’m so sorry…_

They went on and on. More were still being added, becoming less and less coherent. Virgil couldn’t let him feel at fault.

 _Stop stop stop it’s okay_ ,he wrote on his ankle. The arm was too full.

 _No it’s not_ , Roman replied. No calligraphy, no fancy words, nothing.

 _I panicked, it’s my fault_ , Virgil scrawled, believing it wholeheartedly.

 _I made you panic_ , it’s my fault, Roman scrawled back.

_I panic all the time, it’s my fault_

_I overlooked that, it’s my fault_

_You didn’t know, it’s my fault_

_I should have, it’s my fault_

_Princey just let me take the blame_

_No_

He dropped his pen on the comforter and carded his fingers through his hair. Why was Roman being so stubborn? That was usually Virgil’s territory.

 _Fine, then I’ll have to steal the blame when you’re not looking_ , Virgil wrote. From what he knew, wordplay seemed to please Roman.

 _Then I’ll guard it with shield and sword._ Virgil smiled. There it was.

_That’ll only work for so long_

_You underestimate my power, Sleepless in My Arms._ Virgil laughed aloud. The nicknames never ended.

No new sentences appeared for a few moments. Then the tingling started again. _Speaking of sleepless, this is rather early for you to be up. I thought your pub didn’t open until 11:00?_

Virgil sighed. Answering that question was a pity party waiting to happen. _You’re the one that texted me first_

_Yes, but I have to be up early for class._

Virgil truly didn’t want to tell him about the Mom nightmare. But he hated lying. What could he do? Be vague?

That was what he usually did, so he followed his gut. _It was just a dream no big deal_

 _A nightmare?_ Virgil flinched. Here it came.

_Yeah_

_Okay. You’d talk to me or someone else if it was truly bothering you, right?_

_Yeah_

_Then I’ll leave it at that._

Virgil blinked. No prying? Weird. Virgil was used to it from Logan and Patton.

 _Shoot, my professor’s back. I’d love to keep talking, but I’m almost failing Calc and I need to pay attention_ , Roman wrote hurriedly.

Virgil groaned. College always got in the way of things, especially for a working man whose friends were always studying. _Okay_

 _Text you later?_ Roman wrote, almost hesitantly. He was probably still feeling guilty, no matter how unjustified that was.

 _Text you later_ Virgil replied. He scribbled a little star at the end of the sentence, and Roman scribbled one back.

When he was sure that that was the last of the messages, Virgil flopped back onto his bed. Talking to Roman was hard, but rewarding. He checked the time. 6:57 AM.

His eyes were red. His scalp stung. His head was pounding, leftover from the panic attack. But he felt… Light. Lighter than he usually would after a nightmare, a crisis and a long conversation.

He took a breath. Well, as long as he wasn’t feeling to terrible…

Virgil swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was already awake; might as well do something. He walked to the kitchen, a little wobbly.

He was feeling weirdly productive. Maybe he’d cook breakfast. Did he even have food to cook? As he poked around looking for something edible, he reflected on his morning. He should feel like he’d been hit by a bus, and he did. So why wasn’t he moping about feeling sorry for himself like he usually did?

Maybe it was Roman.

He still didn’t want to face the question. He still had no idea what he was doing. But he wasn’t alone. Roman hadn’t ever had a soulmate either—they were both flying blind. There was some comfort to be had in that.

Virgil scoured his pantry, and discovered a container of pancake mix. When did he get this? He was normally far too lazy to even think about buying something that required cooking. But he had it nonetheless, and it was probably time he actually used the stove in his kitchen.

He turned it on. Flames burst to life inside.

He jumped back, hitting his spine on the counter behind him. Since when did stoves have fire?! What sorcery was this? In his haste, the pancake mix flew out of his hand and burst open, spilling powder all over the floor.

Virgil stared. And stared. Then he began to laugh out loud.

He was a mess; an utter mess. But he was a mess in progress.

That was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to write/post! It's because of many unfortunately timed events going on in my life right now, and also because it has been on Tumblr for about a week, and I apparently forgot to put it on here... Whoops. It seems that I'm better about this fic on Tumblr. (@punch-you-with-friendship by the way, hit me up)


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